Those Damn Pack Instincts
by kericopyright
Summary: When teen-age Kyle Broflovski, Stan Marsh, and Kenny Mccormick are heading home through the woods, they see Eric Cartman viciously attacked by an animal. (Don't hate, remember this site is for fan FICTION, not everything in a story you read will have what you're looking for, so I encourage you to write your own story if you find something you don't like in someone else's work.)
1. Chapter 1

Sure, strange things happened all the time in the supposedly sleepy little mountain town of South Park Colorado. But this time was nothing like crazy celebrities, national scandals, or even alien visits. This time, the only person affected was 17-year-old Eric Cartman.

Despite the years that had passed between the citizens of South Park, nothing much had changed in the way they related with each other. Eric and Kyle still argued every chance they got, Kyle and Stan were still the closest of friends, and Kenny still had an endless store of immature sex-related humor. Craig, Tweek, Token, and Clyde still had their little quartet, Butters was still too innocent for his own good, and Wendy still had Stan wrapped around her finger. Their parents still got shit-faced for the dumbest reasons, Garrison was questioning his sexuality once again, and Mrs. Broflovski still led the occasional nationwide protest. Everyone else was pretty much the same as well, just add on a few years' worth of history.

However, there were some fairly surprising changes, specifically within the famous group of four boys. Stan had become star quarterback of the high school football team, and consequently put some muscle onto his slender form. Kyle was now the shortest of the group of four, but his curly red hair had almost completely been tamed. Kenny finally stopped wearing his hood up, and his lanky figure coupled with his perfectly tossed dirty blonde hair and crystal blue eyes had all the girls, and some guys, entranced. The biggest apparent change was in Eric Cartman. After years of hearing all the "fatass" jokes, he finally took it upon himself to loose all his extra weight. But there had been some truth to his "big-boned" excuse; he was the tallest in the school and had a strong, sturdy build; unbelievably intimidating when paired with his hateful comments. That part of him hadn't changed.

It was way past dark when Kyle, Stan, Eric, and Kenny were walking back to their respective homes after watching the umpteenth Terrance and Philip movie.

"Dude, we shoulda drove to the movies. It's fucking freezing!" Kyle's slightly wavering voice sputtered through clacking teeth.

"Oh what, the Jew can't handle the c…cold? Maybe that's why they were p…put in an oven." Eric replied, earning a scoff from Kenny, although in his mind he had to agree.

"Fuck you, Cartman."

"So what'd you guys think of Terrance and Philip: Asses Abroad?" Stan interjected, quick to stop the argument before it really started.

"Predictable, immature humor, lack of real plot… loved it." Eric's gravely voice sliced through the cold wind with ease.

"Yep." Kenny stated. "This is my street… see you tomorrow at school… if I don't skip."

A chorus of goodbyes chimed from the trio of boys who continued walking towards their own homes after they watched to make sure Kenny made it into his house; he sometimes had a nasty habit of getting killed when he was alone.

Eric lingered back a little bit until he fell behind Stan and Kyle, his strides nearly twice as long as theirs. He checked his watch. _Damn, 12:33. We got school tomorrow, better take the shortcut._

As Stan, Kyle, and Eric approached the small strip of woods containing a trail that lead to their neighborhood, Eric spoke up. "It's late you guys, better take the shortcut or it'll be way past one before we get back." The statement felt a little lack-luster to him, so he added, "I know how you sissies hate staying up past bed-time."

"Yeah, I guess that's true. The woods creep me the hell out at night though." Stan voiced as they entered the snowy forest.

They trudged on in silence, an eerie feeling settling upon the trio as they peered through the woods with only their cell phone lights and the narrow path to guide them.

Suddenly, Kyle's voice broke the quiet. "G…guys? Do y…you see that?" He stopped, his green-gloved hand pointing towards a deep crimson splash in the otherwise pure white snow. "I think it's b…blood…" His face had gone pale, as had the other two boys when they had gotten a good glimpse at the red liquid.

"Screw this, I'm going home." Eric grunted as he began to jog further along the path. The other two were about to follow when they heard a surprised shout come from Eric and saw his phone, still casting light, drop to the ground.

Though they could no longer see him, they heard the sturdy teen's yells slowly regress further into the woods. A brief second passed between Kyle and Stan where they considered simply turning away from Cartman and running home, after all, this was Cartman they were talking about. But as they suddenly heard a cry of intense pain come from the usually cocky and poised teen, they left all doubt and sprinted towards the ever-growing screams.

Kyle and Stan found themselves following what looked like drag marks, spotted with what must've been Cartman's… blood. Whatever attacked him had to have been huge, after all, Cartman was a pretty muscle-y teen. They entered a clearing and shined their phone lights on a large black mass.

Black fur shimmered under the light, revealing a wolf. Scratch that. A wolf that was nearly 6 feet tall, pinning a struggling Cartman to the snow. A puddle of scarlet had pooled under the teen due to what looked like a bunch of deep bites and scratches littering his body. His face was ashen, and his cries of pain were slowing down; he was loosing consciousness due to extreme blood loss.

"Fucking Christ! What do we do!?" Kyle exclaimed as he suddenly gripped his best friend's wrist, who immediately picked up a nearby rock and chucked it at the hulking wolf. It hit the wolf on the side of it's neck, and it shot it's head up to stare at the terrified pair.

Suddenly, a flash of light and a deafening crack came from another part of the clearing… a gun. The giant wolf let out a yelp and collapsed on its side, before getting up and painfully trotting deep into the woods.

Kyle and Stan sprinted towards Eric's trembling body, the shooter doing the same.

"Oh my God…" Stan sputtered as he reached Eric first, followed closely by Kyle. The shooter panted up, taking his hood off to reveal himself as Kenny.

"I heard him shouting…" He started but trailed off when he noticed the condition of his friend. Kenny himself knew what it was like to die, but he always, for some reason, came back to life. But that was Kenny, and this time, Eric was the one on the brink of death.

There were two huge claw-mark-like gashes that ripped through his trademark red jacket and his shirt underneath, revealing bloodied flesh. His right leg, which the giant wolf had used to drag him through the woods, had a deep bite mark in it, the pants fabric up to his right knee was torn completely off. His left knee and the palms of his hands were scrapped and bloodied, as if he had tried, in vain, to use or grab onto a root or something to escape the jaws of the huge animal. There were other scratches and bites littering his body, and one particularly deep one stretching across his entire left cheek. Blood trickled from all the injuries, pooling in the white snow around the teen's body. His usual misleadingly soft, chocolate-brown eyes were beginning to glaze over when he gazed at the trio.

"Sss…orry fer th… Jew n poor s'uff… en fer bein' an… ass all… those years…" Eric slurred out.

"Oh my God he's delusional! We gotta get him to the hospital!" Stan and Kenny reacted immediately to the redhead's cry and hoisted up the battered form between them, sharing the weight bridle-style. They began to half-jog back to town. Kyle started to follow them, when Cartman's signature turquoise and yellow hat caught his eye, half buried under stirred up powder. He snatched it up and sprinted after his friends, silently praying he'd be able to see the teen he barely considered a friend wear it again.


	2. Chapter 2

Eric Cartman's life had only barely been spared due to the bravery and loyalty of his three friends. They had barely made it to Kyle's house, which was the closest, before they had to set Eric down on the soft couch due to exhaustion from carrying the sturdy teen. Mrs. Broflovski had been asleep, but Mr. Broflovski was sitting on his living room couch with a beer and a playboy magazine when Kenny, Stan, and his eldest son dashed in with an unconscious Eric. They immediately called the hospital and an ambulance picked up Eric along with his friends and Mr. Broflovski within five minutes.

They stayed at the hospital all night and well into the morning, only catching snippets of conversation between the doctors and nurses concerning Eric, including "blood transfusion", "scarring", "couldn't be animal", and "should be dead". The last one caused Kyle, Stan, and Kenny to shiver. Around seven in the morning, Mr. Broflovski's phone rang; Kyle's mom had most likely just woken up to discover her husband and eldest son missing and blood soaking the floors and couch. He left the waiting room so as to not disrupt the other people with his wife's voice screeching through the cell phone.

It was a few minutes after Mr. Broflovski had left the room when one of the doctors tending Cartman approached the boys in the waiting room.

"Your friend Mr. Cartman is resting now, he's very lucky to have survived." He stated gravely. "Animal attacks as vicious as those don't usually end up well. He's sleeping now, but would you still like to see him?"

"Uh, yeah sure." Stan answered for the trio. They stood from their chairs and followed the graying doctor to a hospital room at the end of the hall. He pushed open the door and closed it behind the three teens, allowing them privacy with their injured friend.

The 17-year-old they saw laying on the bed was nothing near the Eric Cartman they had come to know and oftentimes hate. His usually smug and slightly attractive face was sunken in, pale, and ashy, and dark circles surrounded closed eyes. A huge bandage covered his entire left cheek and his left eye. His muscled body appeared frail, littered with bandages. An IV was stuck in his right arm, feebly attempting to refill the liquids he had lost during the attack. The only implication that the battered body was still alive was the constant beep of the heart monitor and the slight rising and falling of his chest.

"He was an ass, but I don't think he deserved this…" Kyle started to say as he gazed toward his life-long frenemy. Kenny mumbled something in agreement, Stan only stood in silence.

Before long, the three boys were ushered out of the hospital and they decided to just go ahead to school. The attack was biggest source of gossip within South Park High School, after all news traveled fast in the tiny town, so Kenny, Stan, and Kyle became mini celebrities. Questions such as "what was it", "did you catch it", and even "did Cartman die" buzzed around them all day, only to be quieted when the three boys escaped to the quiet of Kyle's house. When they walked through the front door, however, they couldn't help but remember the blood-soaked floor and coach, and the poor boy they had barely saved.

Once safely behind Kyle's closed bedroom door, the three boys let out small sighs of relief. "Come on dudes," Stan began. "We're okay, he's gonna be okay, it's all behind us."

"I brought some weed." Kenny stated plainly, earning a snort from Kyle.

"When don't you bring weed, dude. My mom has a nose like a bloodhound. You really think we could get away with it here?"

Kenny smirked, a slight twinkle in his icy blue eyes. "We sure as hell can try."

"Come on Kyle, we deserve it." Stan moved over to sit next to Kenny, peering expectantly at him with deep ocean blue eyes.

"Fine. Only since it's Friday and my parents have date night." Kyle succumbed with a scoff and a roll of his forest green eyes. "You two might as well spend the night." He locked his door and settled down next to his friends who had started to roll their own blunts.

The weekend passed uneventfully. Kyle, Stan, and Kenny stayed inside almost the entire time, except when they went to visit Eric in the hospital Sunday afternoon. This time, he was awake.

"Hey, fat-ass." Kenny murmured quietly, as to not hurt Eric's already pounding head.

"How you feeling?" Stan asked.

"Oh just peachy. Turns out my beautifully chiseled face will be permanently scarred, I won't be able to walk on my leg for weeks, and I'm pretty sure I actually apologized to you assholes before I blacked out." Eric complained.

"Yeah you sure as hell did. 'Sorry for the Jew and poor stuff, and for being an ass all these years'." Kyle imitated.

"God fucking damn it, Kahl, you Jew. I didn't mean it I was under the influence of a fucking monster attack." Eric swallowed before continuing. "Did you… did you guys see what it was? What happened to it?"

"It, uh… it was like this giant-ass wolf. Kenny shot it in the leg or side or something, and it limped into the woods. It probably died; it looked like it was really injured." Stan enlightened his friend.

"Oh. It was seriously just like a really big wolf? Huh." Cartman's eyebrows furrowed momentarily before he winced in pain, clutching his side.

"Hey dude you okay?" Kyle asked.

"Yeah, yeah I'm g…" Cartman's voice cut off when he reflexively curled his torso and pulled his legs in a fetal-like position, groaning softly in pain.

Stan started to call a nurse when Cartman interrupted him. "No… no don't call a nurse. They won't let me outta here if you do…" He muttered breathlessly while still curled up on the hospital bed. "I just… hafta catch my breath." After about a minute of struggling, he took a deep breath and relaxed back into the pillow, soft, chocolate brown eye gazing up at the ceiling, the bandages on his face slipping slightly.

Kyle began to speak. "If there's something wrong you can't just keep it from the nurses to get out of here faster. They're trying to help y…"

"I said I was fine!" Cartman interrupted the Jew. His voice was harsh, but different from his usual harsh; it was almost a snarl, and there was momentarily something… _wrong_ with his pupil. But he quickly set his eye downcast, once again furrowed his eyebrows and muttered, "I think you guys should go, my head's killing me."

"Did you want us to come back tomorrow and bring you anything or…" Kenny murmured softly. He was surprisingly considerate when it came to an injured person, especially when it was a family member or friend, even if it was Eric Cartman.

Cartman's face softened, or as much as Cartman could in fact soften his face. "A Big Mac. Food here sucks balls."

"I thought you cut out all the fast food, fat-ass." Stan chuckled. "We'll bring you one, and a coke."

"Thanks for not entirely sucking, dude. But I'm not a fat-ass; I deserve this god damn burger." He lay his head back down onto the pillow, his mousy brown hair hanging over his bandages and closing eye. "Screw off you guys, I'm going to sleep."

"See you tomorrow." Kyle, Stan, and Kenny chimed as they filed out of the hospital room. Once they left the hospital, they hurried to their respective homes before the sky even started to darken; memories of the incident fresh in their minds.


	3. Chapter 3

Eric Cartman was discharged from the hospital the following Tuesday afternoon, and, anxious to get out of his house and away from his mother's constant attention, he returned to school Wednesday. Under normal circumstances, Eric would've reveled in the attention and rare sympathy; however, he was anything but enjoying it. The bandages on his head had been removed due to a remarkably quick heal; however it still left three gnarled, parallel, claw-mark scars extending from above his left eyebrow to the left side of his mouth. He still had to keep the wrappings around his torso on and continue using crutches, much to his annoyance.

No one commented on his appearance, condition, or the attack at first due to wariness of the typically brash teen. However, when his classmates caught Eric attempting to stifle groans of pain and downplay the entire incident, he was given some well-deserved sympathy.

"Eric's an ass, but it's hard to see anyone, even him, in that much pain." Wendy had told Stan when they met up before class.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I feel sorry for him." Token whispered to Clyde when Eric limped past.

Craig even refrained from giving the injured teen the bird.

But while others would've felt relief in knowing their classmates were on their side, Eric's annoyance only grew with every word of sympathy. He was used to only Kyle, Stan, and Kenny's company, but even then he oftentimes found himself fleeing from their presence. He never received positive reactions to anything he said or did, and he liked it that way, the solitude.

Eric had reached the last straw when Mr. Garrison had spoken to the entire class about how they were to "make sure they did whatever they could to ensure Eric's healing process would be comfortable".

Eric muttered, "I'm going to the restroom" before hobbling out the door, crutches clicking loudly through the silence. Those who he passed could see a pink tint flush across his checks.

He pushed open the door of the bathroom and shuffled inside. He glanced up at the mirror, and noticed the paleness of his face everywhere but his checks, which were bright red. Eric leaned over and locked the door; he didn't want anyone walking in and seeing him weaker than he already was. He looked again at the mirror, this time really studying his features.

Strong jaw-line and cheekbones. Dark, heavy-set eyebrows. Strong nose. Misleadingly soft chocolate brown eyes. Mousy brown hair a little overgrown. Faintest shadow of stubble.

Everything looked normal enough, but something just felt wrong. Eric stared for a little while longer before a shiver slowly crept down his spine. His head had already been pounding, but there was a sudden jolt that caused him to tightly grip the sides of the sink. He leaned over the sink breathing heavily.

 _Oh Jesus don't vomit please don't vomit._ Eric pleaded silently. He turned the nozzle on the sink, cool droplets splashing his trembling hands. Grinding his teeth, he cupped his hands under the flowing water, splashing it onto his face when enough pooled. He was filling his outstretched palms for the fourth of fifth time when the doorknob jiggled.

It wasn't really a big deal, someone just wanted to piss or something. But for some reason, the small sound enraged Eric. He shut the water off and whipped around to stare at the door.

"You in there fat-ass?" Kenny's voice called through the door.

Eric knew Kenny was only messing around; after all, Eric's nickname had been "fat-ass" since he had been a chunky little kid. But something inside him snapped at his friend's attempt to tease the suffering kid.

"Leave me the fuck alone, Mccormick." Eric growled through clenched teeth, gripping the sink so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Woah dude I was just checking on you… ya seemed kinda…"

"What part of 'alone' do you not fucking understand?!" Eric snarled, animalistic.

There was shocked silence on the other side of the door before Kenny stammered, "Cartman you gotta let me in, okay?"

"Why the hell would I need to let you in?" Eric growled.

Kenny replied immediately, keeping his voice level. "Because you were attacked by a fucking mutant animal and you were hospitalized for almost a goddamn week and you're talking to me like a fucking psycho. Now unlock the door, Eric."

At the sound of his friend's calm voice speaking his name, Eric snapped out of… whatever fog he had been in. He furrowed his brows and shook his head a few times before unlocking the door.

Kenny stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. "You want it locked?" He watched Eric closely, as if he was analyzing the larger teen's face.

Kenny was good at reading people, and Eric knew it. He ran his hand through his usually slicked-back hair, now shaggy and sticking up all over the place, uncomfortable under Kenny's scrutinizing gaze. "Yeah, yeah… don't want people to hear me vomiting my fucking dick off."

Kenny quietly locked the door then peered back at Eric, noticing beads of sweat trickle down the side of his paling face. "Hey man, you look like shit. You should go home, I'll skip with you." He offered.

"No way I'm going home and walking in during the middle of my whore of a mother sleeping with some homeless fag." Eric replied bitterly.

Kenny chuckled. "Well we don't have to go there then. But seeing as my parents aren't much better, we don't really have too many options."

"If we got Stan or Kyle to skip with us we could crash at theirs…" Eric trailed off. A sudden wave of exhaustion had hit him and he wanted nothing more than to pass out somewhere soft and quiet. He slid down against the cool tile wall until he was sitting, legs stretched out in front of him.

"I'll text 'em." Kenny pulled out his phone and sat next to Eric against the wall, still watching the teen out of the corner of his eye. Eric had his eyes closed, but his brow was furrowed and he was chewing on his lip.

He started a group text with Kyle and Stan and typed up a message.

 _somethings wrong w/ Eric. he needs to go home, or somewhere he can sleep. won't go alone to his house, lets go to one of yours. bathroom, 2 story. doors locked, knock._

A reply from Stan came almost immediately.

 _coming. we'll skip 2._

About five minutes later, a soft knock came from the locked door. Kenny stood up, unlocked it, and stepped inside for Stan and Kyle to enter. They looked around the tiled room for Eric, to find him still sitting against the wall, eyes closed.

"So what's up with the fat-ass?" Kyle questioned quietly.

"When I got here, I tried opening the door but it was locked. I heard him breathing really fast and splashing water on his face and freaking out but when I asked to let me in, he…" Kenny began.

"He what?" Stan asked.

"He growled at me." Noticing the confusion spread across his friend's faces, he quickly continued. "I mean like he was saying words and shit, but they way he said it…" Kenny trailed off.

All three boys gazed at the brawny teen sleeping on the bathroom floor. He was completely still except the fluttering of his eyelashes as his eyes moved around in his sleep.

Kyle reached over and nudged Eric's shoulder. "Hey dude, wake up. We're going to my house."

Eric's eyelids slowly lifted, chocolate brown eyes meeting Kyle's forest green ones. They stared intently for a second, and Kyle swore he saw something flicker deep within his life-long frenemy, but whatever it was, Eric masked it almost immediately.

"So, the Jew's?" Eric asked as he slowly stood, gripping the sink for balance.

"Yeah. We can leave through the gym. My car's parked right out back." Stan offered as he the bathroom.

"You alright to make it there, Eric?" Kyle faced the brunette and asked, before he realized he had used Cartman's first name, a rare occurrence for the ginger.

Again, that strange flicker crossed Eric's face for the briefest of moments before he strolled cockily past Kyle, or as best he could with crutches, and said, "Oh don't pity me, Jew." The clicks of his crutches disappeared down the hall.

Kenny and Kyle shared a quick glance before strolling after Stan and Cartman, hoping whatever the hell was up with the fat-ass would end sooner than later.


	4. Chapter 4

Eric and Stan had already made it half way across the parking lot when Kyle and Kenny approached the gym exit. However, it was that exact moment that their "rival group", aka Craig, Token, Tweek, and Clyde, wandered in through the adjacent doors leading to the cafeteria. They noticed the orange parka and the green ushanka clad teens immediately.

Neither group really had any problem with each other, in fact they often times joined up to hang out. However, if two guys from the different quartets had an argument, the remaining group members would always side with their usual comrades, no matter the issue.

But then again, Craig was sometimes an asshole. Nowhere near Eric's level of asshole-dom, but still an asshole. So when he approached Kyle and Kenny, who were obviously headed towards the door to leave, they knew their cutting class would not go as flawlessly as they'd hoped.

"Hey douche-bags, where do you think you're going?" Craig called in his deep, nasally voice. Token stood next to him with his usual indifferent look, Clyde was stuffing his face with a brownie next to Token, and Tweek stood behind Craig, hands dug deep into his pockets, occasionally twitching.

"Fuck off, dude, we're ditching, there's only two periods left anyways." Kenny replied.

"Hm, I wonder why that is. Care to enlighten me?"

"No, we don't care to enlighten you."

"Not like Broflovski to just skip for the sake of it." Craig looked from the sandy-haired teen to the dark red-headed one.

"It's none of your fucking business Craig, so go take your little boyfriends somewhere else!" Kyle muttered, trying to sound threatening. Taking into account Kyle was nearly 8 inches shorter than the 6 foot 2 inch raven-haired teen, it was a feeble attempt.

Craig walked up to Kyle until their bodies were barely an inch apart and Kyle had to look up to Craig's glaring face. "You're usually fairly chill Broflovski, but I don't appreciate that kind of talk."

Kyle tried to look as fierce as he could, but his leafy green eyes could hardly complete with the intensity of Craig's dark blue ones. The raven-haired teen smirked, narrowed his eyes, than shoved Kyle.

The Jew stumbled backwards, than landed on the scuffed gym floor, head slamming back into the floor. Clyde stared at the scene, brownie crumbs falling from his lips.

"Dude! What the fuck?!" Kenny exclaimed as he knelt down next to a recovering Kyle.

"He was being a little shit. He deserved it." Craig muttered.

Token scratched the back of his head, still fairly indifferent. "He did kinda deserve it."

"C-Craig? Let's j-just g-go." Tweek stammered out, yanking on Craig's blue jacket.

Craig glanced back at the quivering blonde and his eyes softened ever so slightly. "Yeah, whatever." He flipped off Kenny and Kyle and started to turn away when the door leading to the parking lot slammed open.

"What the HELL do you think you're doing?!" Cartman stormed in through the doorway. His limp nearly gone, crutches nowhere to be found.

"He was being an ass. Calm your shit, dude." Craig stated monotonously as he, Tweek, Clyde, and Token began to walk away.

"Y-yeah. I was being an ass. It's seriously okay." Kyle added as he stood up, fixing his green ushanka to cover his curls.

Cartman stared, fuming, at Craig and his group until they had left the gym. The mousey-haired boy then turned his attention to Kenny and Kyle, who appeared unharmed.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No, I'm okay, he just…" he paused. "Wait a sec, why would you give a shit if I was hurt?" Kyle glared at Cartman.

"He threatened you." Cartman stated simply. His brown eyes bore into his two friends.

"Cartman how did you know that?" Kenny narrowed his eyes.

"I heard him, you idiot."

"You were halfway across the parking lot."

"Yeah well I guess Craig's asshole voice carries." He shook his head and furrowed his brows. "Let's go. Stan's pulling up his car."

The recovering teen began to limp back towards to gym door, all anger towards Craig and sympathy towards his two friends forgotten.

Stan had pulled up in his blue Ford Escape and was tossing Cartman's crutches in the trunk. Cartman wordlessly slipped into the front seat, and Kenny and Kyle crawled into the back.

During the drive to Kyle's house, Eric let Kyle, Stan, and Kenny's voices and conversation flow right by. He was too captivated by his own thoughts. _How had he been able to hear everything in the gym? Why had, in his sprint towards the gym door, he not felt any pain? And why did his gut wrench when he sensed the shred of fear in Kenny and more-so Kyle?_ He silently pleaded his friends wouldn't ask or comment on the incident he himself couldn't figure out.

 _But they're safe now! And they'll stay safe._ A small voice whispered in the back of Eric's mind, but he didn't really hear it.

Eric didn't notice the car had stopped moving until Kenny had gotten out of the car and attractively squished his entire face against the windshield, causing Eric to snicker.

He pushed open the door and stepped out into the brisk winter air, waiting for Stan to get his crutches from the trunk.

"My dad's working late and my mom's out of town for a couple days to visit my aunt." Kyle explained as he unlocked his door. "Ike will be home after school, but middle school doesn't get out until like four and he'll probably just go chill in his room."

The quartet stepped through the entryway and shuffled into the family room, Kyle and Stan plopped down on the couch, Kenny took an armchair, and Eric took the loveseat. Stan picked up the remote and turned on the TV.

"Oh dude! Who the hell was watching TV last?" Stan groaned in disgust as he quickly changed the channel from a show titled 'Exotic Animal Orgasms'. "Hey, wanna have an old Terrence and Philip movie marathon?"

"Yeah, sounds good." Kenny replied, slipping his thick boots off.

"As long as I can pass out if I need to, I'm good with whatever." Eric stretched his brawny mass across the cushioned piece of furniture.

About halfway through the first movie, Kyle and Stan had inhaled two family-size bags of Cheesy Poofs, Kenny had started to absent-mindedly doodling dicks on one of Mrs. Broflovski's magazines, and Eric had fallen into a deep sleep.

He was sprinting through the woods. _Damn, how cliché is this? I'd have liked to imagine my nightmares to have a bit more flair. Oh well, guess I'll just go with it._ He thought to himself as he rocketed through the snowy forest. The woods were silent; he could hear his heart thundering and his sharp breathing. He just kept running through what seemed to be endless wilderness. _Come on! Any fucking day now!_ _Can something interesting happen or something?_ Still, nothing changed.

After what seemed like a life-time, Eric had the genius idea of simply stopping. As soon as he did, the scene around him shifted. _Ah, yes. Here we go._ As soon as his surroundings settled, he noticed his vision was blurry and the colors seemed dull, as if everything around the dreaming teen had the pigment sucked out of it, but he could still see slight tints of color. He squint his eyes and peered around.

The dreamer made out the shapes of a couple of teenagers all huddled together, quivering as if they were naked in the middle of a snowstorm. One had a blue and red puffball hat, another bore a blue chullo hat with a yellow puffball, and another wore an orange hood. There were four more without hats; two blondes, a brunette, and a black kid.

Suddenly the dreamer felt something hit the back of his head. He snarled but didn't stop staring at the shaking teens. He took a step foreword and something hit the back of his head again. The dreamer whirled around to see another teen clad in a bright green ushanka clutching several rocks in his left hand, right arm lowering. Ushanka boy stared right at the dreamer with what looked like furious defiance, but the dreamer could see the doubt and fear that shrouded the small teen. He slunk closer, relishing in the panic that now spread across his victim's features. In seconds, his face was inches from the small teen's own, and he stared into the watering eyes.

Green eyes. Ushanka boy had green eyes. _Like a forest._ The dreamer stared bullets into the green eyes that took him from where he was through woods, past streams, and over mountains. He traveled the entire world in seconds, without moving from his fixed position in front of the owner of the captivating eyes.

Ushanka boy's brow knitted in confusion, squinting at the dreamer. He heard the teen mutter something under his breath; "Human eyes… like chocolate…"

The dreamer didn't understand the teen, but, for some odd reason, he no longer felt the blind rage and desire to maul ushanka boy.

Ushanka boy started to tremble as something that looked like realization crossed his face. "C-Cartman?"

The dreamer lowered his snarling lips and tilted his head in confusion. He felt as if he'd somehow, somewhere heard that word before.

"Cartman."

"Cartman?"

"Eric!"

Eric's eyes shot open to see Kenny reaching over the side of the armchair to jostle Eric's sore but uninjured arm.

"First movie's over, and you've got a pretty bad fever. Kyle's getting you some flu meds." He held up a page in a _People_ magazine featuring Kim Kardashian with a very detailed dick inked onto her voluptuous thigh. "It feels like it's missing something…"

Cartman yawned. "Needs warts."

"Shit yeah! Gotta remember the genital herpes." Kenny slammed the paper back onto the coffee table and began to furiously scribble onto the already destroyed page.

Cartman stretched and yawned again, trying to remember what he had been dreaming about. Unable to recall it, he shrugged it off, got up, grabbed his crutches, and made his way to the Jew's kitchen.

Stan's arms were completely submerged in the depths of Kyle's pantry looking for another bag of Cheesy Poofs. A six pack of cola was set on the ground behind him.

"Doubt you'll find anymore. You're acting like a bigger fat-ass than I was as a kid." Cartman snickered as he passed the raven-haired teen. "Where's Kyle with some damn flu medicine?"

"Um… I think he's in the bathroom down the hall." Stan looked up at Cartman with big, deep-blue eyes. "I don't suppose you have any junk food or snacks, do you?"

"Not this time Marsh." He ruffled Stan's hair before stopping, eyes widening in shock. "I… I just… I fucking ruffled your hair." He withdrew his hand like it was on fire. "Your greasy black hair…"

Stan merely rolled his eyes. "Hey maybe your body is trying to tell you how guys are supposed to treat people they consider friends. And my hair isn't nearly as greasy as yours is, with you always slicking it back."

"Whatever Marsh." Cartman muttered as he clicked down the hall. He reached the bathroom and maneuvered his crutches around so he could open the door.

Kyle's muffled voice called through the door as he was turning the doorknob. "Cartman just go back to the couch, I'll bring your medicine to you."

He pushed the door all the way open. "Well, seeing as I'm already here…"

Kyle had started to say something in reply, but Eric didn't hear him. He could only see green eyes. _Like a forest._

His dream crashed into him at full force, almost causing him to physically stumble. He had wanted to attack his friends, kill them. Like an animal. In fact, exactly like an animal.

"Hey fat-ass. Are you even listening to me?" Kyle's crisp voice cut through the haze in Eric's mind. "You have a 102 degree fever, so go back the fucking living room and lay down." His voice softened just a bit. "I'll bring you the meds."

"Yeah sure whatever." Eric mumbled as he retreated back to the hall and made his way back to the living room.

Stan had found a bag of Doritos to pacify him and Kenny was now drawing a dick on Kim's bicep (or lack thereof). Eric plopped back down onto the loveseat and settled in as Stan put in the second Terrence and Philip movie.

Kyle entered the room with a bottle of pink liquid and two more bottles containing red and white pills. He swallowed two each, and gulped down a teaspoon of the sickeningly sweet syrupy medicine before pulling a nearby throw blanket over his large frame.

As he settled back down to actually stay up for the whole movie, Eric tried to ignore the burning feeling radiating from the scars that stretched across his torso, leg, and face.


	5. Chapter 5

It was nearing the end of November, and football season was drawing to a close. With the end of Stan's peak of athleticism, it was time for Kyle to shine. As a child, he had been one of the tallest in his grade, boosting his passion for basketball. That passion had continued to drive him, and he still remained one of the best players despite his short height.

Two days after Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Eric had their Terrence and Philip marathon, the quartet was headed towards the school gym after school for basketball tryouts.

"Are you sure you'll even be able to see the hoop, little Jew boy?" Cartman sneered. His condition, both mental and physical, had improved drastically. He no longer required the use of crutches and the bandages were taken off his face, leaving bare skin and three lines of stitches; however, the bandages on his sturdy torso had to remain. "I bet your scrawny little chicken arms can't even lift the basketball!"

"Shut up, fatass, I'm psyching myself." The ginger towed his bag containing his basketball shirt, shoes, and shorts into the locker room, leaving Stan, Kenny, and Eric to wait on the nearby bleachers.

They sat across from Tweek and Clyde, who watched as Craig and Token warmed up together. The noirette handled the ball with ease, but the black teen matched the skill with his speed.

A few minutes later, Kyle exited the locker room in an orange tank top and dark green gym shorts, revealing toned arms and legs. He tossed his bag next to Stan and withdrew his bright green ushanka from his head, red curls flopping to the side. He grabbed a basketball and dribbled down the court, scoring a quick 3-pointer. Kyle's emerald green eyes flicked to Craig's dark blue ones as if to challenge him. The Jew couldn't beat Craig in a fight, but he sure as hell could pose a threat in basketball.

Craig took the challenge, readying himself to block Kyle's next shot. Token backed up, sensing the unspoken contest.

The two continued playing their fiercest until the basketball coach and assistant coach strolled in through the gym doors. Craig attempted one last, desperate shot before the two returned the ball and stood in line next to the other teens trying out.

"Token Black." The graying coach spoke. Token lifted his chin and stepped onto the court, and began exhibiting his skill. About five minutes later, the coach dismissed Token and called out Kyle's name.

Kyle took a deep breath and began to step foreword when he heard a deep, nasally voice. "Good luck Broflovski." He glanced back and said, "You too, Tucker."

Kyle grabbed the basketball that had rolled to a stop by the card table the coaches were sitting at and began to dribble to the court. He showed his extensive maneuverability, shooting, and defensive skills, fumbling (and recovering) only once.

Stan jumped up every time his football-wired brain guessed Kyle exhibited a particularly impressive basketball skill, albeit quietly as to not distract his Super Best Friend. Kenny watched only for a little while before he got distracted sexting some chick from North Park. Cartman's eyes were locked on Kyle's slender yet powerful form, silently begging his frenemy didn't fuck up. He'd never let anyone know what he was thinking though, his reputation was not worth losing just to cheer on the Jew.

Kyle jumped to dunk the ball one last time before landing hard and bending his knees to off-set the impact. Kyle glanced to the coaches, who nodded, and he proceeded to pick up the basketball, set it on the card-table, and walk over to the rest of his gang.

"Dude, that was awesome!" Stan exclaimed while jumping from the bleachers to fist-bump the sweaty red-head. "You definitely made varsity… again."

"Thanks, dude! I fucked up a bit in the beginning, but I think I did alright." Kyle replied with a smirk.

No one noticed Eric lingering back on the bleachers; it wasn't like him to jump up in enthusiasm at his companion's successes. But he sat silently for a moment, unable to speak the taunting words of hate that usually flowed so easily from his mouth.

The truth was, he felt something when he looked at the ginger teen, something that had sort of always been there, yet had been repressed to near oblivion. Eric studied the lean ginger's form, saw every individual drop of sweat lining his soft brow, smelt the sweaty yet not unpleasant musk emanating from him, and even heard the steady rush of air in and out of his lungs. Eric's eyebrows knit in frustration as he tried to place the sensation he felt so strongly for the first time in years. He shook his head as if to clear his mangled thoughts and finally stood and approached Kyle, Stan, and Kenny.

"Listen fat-ass, if you're about to bash my try-out with some half-witted jab at Jews, don't. I'm in a good mood and even you can't fuck it up." He playfully shoved Eric's shoulder.

"Naw, man. I can't bash an athlete like you." Eric said with a shrug. He turned away from the shocked faces of his friends and began walking towards the gym doors with a small smile on his face.

Kyle, Stan, and Kenny all shared a look, but quickly regained their composure and jogged after Eric.

"So you know Lex from North Park?" Kenny asked as he buttoned up his parka.

"You mean your newest sexting partner?" Stan laughed.

"Sorry I'm not the kind of guy who attracts pure little angels!" He retorted. "Anyways, she said there's a party up in North Park tonight, I'm heading over like, now actually. Should be lot's of booze, plus I heard the dude has a heated pool."

"Oh yeah, Wendy mentioned it this morning. I'm taking her after she finishes her student council meeting." Stan replied.

"Oh wow I see how it is, leave the ginger out." Kyle said sarcastically.

"You can still come dude, just drive yourself." Kenny muffled.

"I can drive us Jewboy." Eric broke into the conversation.

"Oh no way in hell am I riding in a car with you driving. You're hardly even recovered from…" Kyle trailed off and peered into Eric's surprisingly calm and amused eyes to check for any response due to his mention of the accident; however, there was no hint of anger.

"Well no way in hell am I riding in a Prius. If it makes you feel any better, I can put the doors back on. Plus chicks totally dig jeeps." Cartman pushed the metal doors of the gym open and breathed in a huge breath of the frozen winter air. He strolled across the parking lot with barely a hint of a limp.

"Well, see you guys there. Stan, don't forget a condom." Kenny said with a smirk and mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he swung up into his old beat up truck.

Stan's face flushed a bright red as he muttered something unintelligible, climbed into his own car, and sped away.

Hearty laughter rang out from the red truck where Kenny still sat before the old thing spurred to life and squealed out of the parking lot.

Kyle shivered, pulled out his orange jacket, and slipped it over his lean frame. He scratched the back of his head, almost nervously.

Eric snickered. "Don't look so nervous, Jewboy. North Park is only, what, two or three hours away?" He climbed up into the driver's seat, Kyle cautiously climbing up into the passenger's. Eric snorted and shook his head before starting the car.

"I'll drop you off at your house so you can shower and grab your shit. It should take me like half an hour to get the doors back on." Eric said after he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Thanks man, but you sure you're really up to a party, especially in North Park?" Eric could feel Kyle's piercing green eyes on his cheek.

He carefully glanced over at his concerned passenger and decided to take a chance. "What would you care?" Eric hoped he sounded nonchalant enough.

Kyle shifted in his chair and tugged his sleeves further over his pale hands. "I mean, you were just attacked like a week ago. You have to take things easy."

Eric's hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel. "I don't need your pity."

"I'm not giving you pity." Kyle snapped, then his voice softened. "You don't know what it was like, seeing someone, even an asshole like you, laying on the ground covered in blood, barely alive." He shivered, whether from the cold or something else, Eric wasn't sure. "I thought you were dead."

Eric couldn't find a response, so instead drove in silence until they arrived at Kyle's house. "I'll text you when I'm on the way back." He mumbled.

Kyle hopped out of the jeep, grabbed his bag, and sped in through the front door.

Twenty minutes or so later, Eric slammed the newly re-attached door of his silver jeep closed and walked through his garage into his house. He opened the door of his fridge, hand lingering over a can of Coke before grabbing a water bottle.

When he was younger, his huge weight hadn't really bothered him. Of course, neither had his whore of a mother, or how he was always the odd man out of his friend group. When middle school hit him and he saw the world in a larger context, Eric began to completely reshape his life. He cut out everything unhealthy, restricted how often he ate, bought several work-out videos (using his mother's credit card of course), and started going on runs through the woods (to make sure no one saw him). He started confronting his mother about her sleeping around and tended to her when she came home drunk and covered in God-knows-what from the evening's hook-up. He even eased off on the incessant racial, sexual, religious, and ethnic slurs and hate-fueled actions, both large and small.

But no matter how much weight he lost, he would always have a sturdy build and he would always struggle with wanting to go back to his glutinous lifestyle. No matter how much he tried to help his mother, she would always be a whore and viewed as such by the whole town. No matter how he tried to improve his character, he couldn't sacrifice his pride and become a softie or lose his frequent visits into peaceful solitude, and his friends would still remember the horrible things he'd done in the past anyways.

Eric trudged upstairs to his room to grab his wallet from atop his dresser. He noted the wisps of mousy brown hair falling over his eyes and walked into his bathroom to slick it back into his rightful place.

He opened the mirror cabinet, grabbed his hair gel, and shut the cabinet with a satisfying click. He looked straight to his shaggy hair, squirted the cool gel into the palm of his hand, and began running his fingers through his thick hair, creating a perfectly tousled look. Satisfied, he returned the gel to its designated place on the cabinet's lowest shelf.

Then Eric's breath caught in his throat. He stared into the mirror in front of him and all was as it should've been; except his eyes. They were bright amber, the gradient spreading from small, round pupils all the way across each eye, leaving hardly any white. "What the fuck…" Eric leaned in closer to the mirror and raised his shaking hands to his eyes and rubbed them vigorously.

As the spots in his vision cleared, he saw his eyes had returned to their usual soft chocolate-y brown. He stared a minute or two more, slowly becoming more and more convinced he had just been imagining things. He left the bathroom with a huff.

Five minutes later, Kyle's phone buzzed, a message appearing on the sleek screen. _here. hurry ur ass up we gotta get gas._

"Never one for manners huh, Cartman" the ginger mumbled to himself as he grabbed his signature green ushanka.

"Oh bubby, are you going out?" Sheila called as she heard Kyle's quick footsteps.

"Yeah mom. I'll be out late with the guys and probably just crash at Stan's. I'll text you when we get back to his house."

"Okay bubby just be careful. I love you!" She made to hug her eldest son who dismissed it as a quick side hug. Kyle walked out the front door to see Eric's jeep, now with doors, waiting in the driveway.

Kyle opened the door and swung up into the seat he was surprised to realize he had now ridden in twice in one day. "Hey fat-ass" he greeted the last person he'd ever thought he would ride with to North Park.

"Don't call me that."

Kyle didn't pay much attention to the bite in Cartman's voice, he was used to it. He didn't even notice anything was slightly off with Cartman until they had gotten gas and were about an hour away from North Park.

Kyle glanced at Cartman's grip on the steering wheel; it was so tight his knuckles had turned white. "Hey dude, are you okay?"

Cartman didn't answer, but only glanced to the smaller teen sitting next to him. His eyes almost seemed, frantic. As soon as their eyes met; however, the larger teen immediately looked back to the road.

"Woah man, do we need to pull over? What's wrong?" He asked, concern growing more than just for his safety.

After what seemed like an internal struggle, Cartman said, "N-no. I'm good." He quickly scrunched his eyes and shook his head before repeating, almost to himself, "I'm good."

The rest of the ride was fairly uneventful, just simple, meaningless conversation. Both teens realized after such a prolonged amount of time with just each other, it wasn't half bad. Their civil solitude was brought to end when they finally pulled up to the address Kenny had sent them. Cartman parked the jeep in the yard right next to some woods then hopped out. Kyle followed suit.

The sound of loud music and bass vibrations were already emitting from the house. The oddball pair began walking towards the pulsating front door.

"So, uh, you ever been to a party here before?" Kyle asked, almost nervously.

"Yeah." Cartman said plainly before glancing at his shorter friend. "Don't drink anything that didn't come directly from a bottle. Also don't smoke any of their shit. They always lace it."

Kyle simply nodded.

"And…" Cartman began, voice cracking. He cleared his throat and continued. "If anyone gives you any trouble, find me. Okay?"

Kyle looked over at Cartman, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"As your designated driver I have a responsibility to keep you alive. Plus, I've just got a really bad feeling about tonight."


End file.
